Verses and Outbursts
by LightwoodLady25
Summary: Memories don't replay in chronological order. Luckily, it doesn't matter. Chapter 10: "Babbling". In which Wen Yu and Jonah Carstairs witness their three year old son create his own hybrid language and subsequently rename himself.
1. Habits

**A/N: Hey there. Here's something new I'm trying: mini drabbles! Pairings will vary by chapter. **

**Here's the first one: banter between Jem and Will on Will's hygiene. Pre-TID. **

Habits

An hour after dinnertime, Jem found Will in the library. The half-asleep Herondale boy slouched in his seat by the window, so absorbed in his thoughts that he did not look up until Jem pulled the book from his loose grip. After mentally making a note of the page Will was on, Jem closed the book and sat across from Will.

"Will, you need to stop cleaning your nails at the table," Jem said, his eyes a harsh silver.

Will yawned and stretched in his seat. "You nitpick, James. No one notices."

"I notice, and I'm telling you, I'm not the only one. The last time I saw Charlotte at the table, she was glaring at you." Charlotte's patience was broad, but Jem suspected it would not be long before she lost her temper.

"Charlotte openly glaring at me? Has Jessie lost her sight suddenly that someone needs to replace her role of pointing out my flaws?" Will chirped. He grinned in amusement.

"No, Jessamine's eyes are fine. If you have been paying any attention, she leaves immediately when you sit down."

"Oh, that explains why meals lacks constant complaining as of lately." Jem's gaze hardened into a glare. He wouldn't let Will change the subject and weasel his way out of this.

"Will, I'm serious. No one wants to eat around you anymore. It's -" It was what? Unseemly, unbecoming, disrespectful, inconsiderate - what?

"Why, James, are you embarassed of me?" Will challenged his parabatai. They both locked eyes, daring each other to retort first. Jem paused. He sighed.

"It's not that. I just worry that everyone in the Institute has not been eating properly since they all abandon the table at the sight of you. We don't see much of each other anymore, and I think it's beginning to weaken everyone's morale."

"Are you implying that I am a family wrecker, Jem?"

"No, William." Will was positively beaming, and was even flicking away bits of dirt from under his fingernails. Right in Jem's plain sight. The nerve.

"Nonsense. This is just the perfect scandal for me! Thank you, James, for giving me this honor."

Jem would not be defeated so easily. "Think of it what you will, William, but the next time I don't see Charlotte and Henry for more than three days, I'm requesting Agatha to stop baking chocolate tarts." He got up out of his seat and away from Will. Agatha had a sense of humor, so she would go along with Jem's plan. In fact, she would probably enjoy the break of not producing batch after batch of the treats. Will devoured them faster than she could make them, claiming that they were the sole source of his success in training.

Will's eyes widened in horror. "You dare deprive me of Agatha's cooking? You fiend!" He shouted as Jem neared the library doors.

In response, Jem smirked as he closed the heavy wooden doors. By breakfast the next day, Jem expected to see Will's hands completely spotless.

**A/N: I know it's super short, but I like letting readers fill in certain details on their own. All reviews are loved and appreciated. :)**


	2. Reluctance

**A/N: Another chapter - huzzah! Post-CP2. No spoilers. **

**Will and Gabriel disagree about who should help Cecily.**

**Disclaimer: Cassandra Clare owns the world and characters of TID. **

Reluctance

One winter afternoon, Will sent Sophie and Cecily to scout out the site of a possible demon nest. It was not his first choice to send his sister on an assignment without him, but the whole Institite was in healing. The Lightwood brothers still bore gashes and sccrapes from their last encounter with a pack of werewolves. Will had been ill with a nasty cough for a few days; it was Brother Zachariah's orders for him to refrain from missions for another week. Tessa was bedridden, recovering from a mild fever and stomach pains.

By late evening, the Institute was in a frenzy, albeit a slightly sicker one. Sophie had returned to the Institite alone. Exhausted, she staggered through the front doors, cradling her right arm that bore two deep gashes. Will shoved past a frantic Gideon pulling out his stele to kneel beside Sophie and ask where his sister had gone to. Before fainting on the spot, Sophie muttered something about Miss Cecily refusing to return to the Institute until the entire nest was clean of all demons. Upon seeing Sophie so badly injured, Cecily had ordered Sophie to return home; she would handle the demons on her own. In no condition to continue fighting even with the numerous iratzes she applied to herself, Sophie had no choice but to obey.

Will's heart lurched at the image of his Cecy overwhelmed by gaping maws and the stench of poisonous ichor. She was a fool to fight a nest of demons alone, but that lecture would wait until she was safely inside the Institute (and Will's watchful gaze). He bolted in the direction of the gates, but Gabriel, who had overheard the conversation and already dressed in gear, was faster. He slammed the front door shut as Will yanked it open halfway. Gabriel's green eyes were ablaze with...fear? Determination? Will didn't care, but he knew Gabriel was an idiot trying to stop him.

"I will go." Gabriel declared in a firm voice.

"Get your bloody hand off the door, Lightwood. She's my sister," Will snarled back.

Gabriel let out a small, impatient sigh and stared hard at Will.

"Herondale, don't be stupid. You're useless if you collapse halfway there." Will's grip on the door handle tightened until his swollen knuckles began to ache. He didn't want to acknowledge it, but he clearly heard his breathing; it sounded like a creaking door being blown at by a hard wind. The heat in his stomach that had kept him awake and moving for the day was gone. He needed nourishment, as he had not eaten or drunk anything since his sister and Sophie left in the afternoon. Gabriel still had bruises, but he was...admittedly healthier. Hesitantly, Will's hand loosened from the door handle and dropped heavily to his side. There was still one thing he could do to help his sister. even if she would not appreciate the idea.

Before Gabriel darted into the night to Cecily, he heard Will's slightly raspy voice threaten him with a shout.

"Cecily will come home safely, or I will strangle you with your own bow string."

**A/N: I will never tire of Will and Gabriel trying to out do the other. All reviews are welcome!**


	3. Coin

**A/N: Hello-hello, everyone! I'm back with the third chapter - a fluffy family fic. Pre-TID. No spoilers. Translation at the bottom. **

**Wen Yu and Jonah Carstairs meet their baby for the first time - a baby with two names.**

**Disclaimer: Cassandra Clare owns The Infernal Devices.**

Coin

In this moment, Jonah Carstairs was the happiest man alive. His wife, Wen Yu, had given birth to a healthy baby. Resting in her bed, Wen Yu was exhausted and sweaty from childbirth, but she was glowing as she cradled their baby in her arms for the first time. Jonah had drawn up a chair next to his wife and wrapped his arms around his family. Although the sound of women cleaning up and shuffling in and out of the room was loud, the Carstairs family was oblivious to it. For now, there were only two beaming parents and their newborn child.

"Ke Jian Ming," Wen Yu whispered. Her dark eyes were lined with tears. "Wo de xiao Jian*." She kissed her baby's cheek. The newborn blinked and shifted his head against his mother's chest. Jonah smiled as the warmth in his heart spreading to the rest of his body. He loved the way his wife said their son's Chinese name, or rather any Chinese words. When she spoke Mandarin, even if she was upset or angry, it sounded like she was singing.

"James has your eyes," Jonah observed, leaning his head against his wife's. Their son inherited his mother's dark eyes and dark hair. "I hope he sees as much beauty in the world as you do."

Flustered with the compliment, Wen Yu smiled and studied her son's pinkish face. Tears blurred her sight before they rolled down her cheeks. Jonah had a way with words that always led to happy tears from her. She placed her index finger next to her son's; he gripped it without hesitation, as if he knew who she was. The tears flowed faster, and Wen Yu gave a knowing laugh.

"I see that Jian has your tenderness," She paused to meet her husband's eyes. "I could not ask a better trait to be passed down from father to son."

A lump lodged in Jonah's throat, preventing him from speaking. He opted to place a kiss on Wen Yu's forehead. It wasn't like him to be rendered speechless, but Wen Yu spoke with such honesty that it surprised him. A yawn from the new mother ended any further conversation; a nap was in order. Wen Yu shifted to the right side of her bed, gently placing her baby on her left side. Jonah scooted his chair so he was closest to his newborn son and settled himself into the cushions. As the new parents drifted to sleep, their baby began to smile, sandwiched in the middle of his two adoring parents.

*My little Jian

**A/N:** **Does anyone else want TID movies in hopes of seeing a baby Jem (or Jem at any age, really) in some flashback, or is that just me? All reviews/feedback are loved!**


	4. Grudgingly

**In which I am loyal to my username and fulfill a request in one swoop. It's a Lightwood sibling fic!**

**Pre-TID. Spoilers if you don't know the cause of Gabriel's hatred of Will. Warning: Benedict Lightwood's cruel parenting if you can call it that. **

**Gabriel's night after a disastrous Shadowhunter Christmas party brings him anything but holiday cheer. **

**Disclaimer: Cassandra Clare owns TID. **

In the middle of a winter's night, Gabriel Lightwood could not sleep. The anger under his skin burned him from the inside outward, disrupting his strict sleeping schedule, as his father expected from all his children. Gabriel cradled his injured arm. An iratze had taken the bite out of the pain, but feeling its stiffness and the cause of his arm's condition made Gabriel growl under his breath.

That damned William Herondale.

This year's Christmas party was the first time Gabriel felt furious enough to kill someone. Herondale's smirk, his relishing in theatrical mockery of Tatiana Lightwood. Reading her diary (the foolish girl refused to leave home without tucking it in her pocket) to all of London's Shadowhunters as if he was revealing the most scandalous secrets of the Clave. Horrified and in ugly tears, Tatiana had fled the room, refusing to show her face, even when their father shouted at her that they would leave her behind if she did not come into the carriage when the party ended. Her flimsy lace fan did nothing to hide her shame. Rather it called more attention as she tried to gracefully scurry past the remaining guests and into the carriage next to a seething Gabriel, already impatient to get home.

The trip home was no better. Within the cushioned space of the carriage, their father lectured Tatiana as if the entire ordeal were her own doing, as if she willingly handed Will Herondale her little journal. His threatening and accusing tone did nothing to stop Tatiana's pleas for forgiveness. Gabriel managed to drown out most of the noise sucking the air out of the carriage. Lately, Tatiana seemed to be the one receiving most of their father's anger. According to their father, being a girl meant that there were more problems for their father to sort out and correct; Tatiana was family and was loved, but she was troublesome. Gabriel stared out of the window, picking up repeated words he had heard since he was a baby: "family honor", "loyalty", "betrayal" – words that Tatiana would never understand the same way her brothers did, much to their father's disbelief.

Back home, Benedict spent a few more hours yelling in his study until he finally sent his daughter to bed. She would not be consoled. Her room was two doors down the hall from Gabriel's; Gideon's room was in between his siblings'. The manor walls were thick, but he could still hear her crying, probably surrounded by pillows and blankets that did nothing to calm her or muffle her anguish.

Gabriel ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. If Gideon had intervened as well at the party, Tatiana would not have been so upset, redeemed by her brothers' defenses. At the party, Gideon stood against the wall, his arms crossed across his chest, looking at no one and saying nothing. When a clearly distraught Tatiana rushed past him, he did not move, not even to give her a reproachful look, as their father had. It was as if Gideon did not care or notice Tatiana's pain. In the carriage, all Gideon offered was a few glances of what seemed like comfort, but it was overshadowed by his posture: crossed arms over his chest. This kind of behavior confused Gabriel, as Gideon was more openly affectionate with their sister than Gabriel ever wanted to be. Whenever she was hurt, emotionally or physically, Tatiana ran into Gideon's open arms. Tonight, however, Gideon offered little comfort, just indifference. The Lightwood boys were only a year apart and very close as brothers should be, but sometimes, Gabriel could not understand what his brother was thinking.

A knock on the bedroom door called Gabriel out of his thoughts. Gideon, in his sleeping clothes, walked in.

"Tatiana wants to see you," Gideon said. His expression was neutral.

So he had gone to check on their sister; it must not have been helpful as the racket from down the hall proved.

"What does she want?" Gabriel asked.

His brother shrugged. "She wants you to stay with her tonight. I suggest not waiting any longer. Her voice will be gone by morning if she stays like this."

"All the better for the rest of us," Gabriel muttered under his breath. It wasn't unusual for Gabriel to feel differently about his sister from moment to moment. Even though he cared for Tatiana, he would not tolerate her crying fits, and they were becoming more frequent. He detested the sound of crying, almost more than he now hated Will Herondale.

"Gabriel, it is the least you can do for her." Gideon was using his 'big brother" voice, as Gabriel referred to it, the "no-nonsense' tone. During training, it was effective and he learned quickly to obey his brother when that voice was used. Tonight, however, Gabriel would not listen.

"The _least_? What did you do at the party, Gideon? How did you save Tati's honor?" Gabriel snapped, his green eyes blazing. The pain in his arm felt magnified as his voice rose in volume.

"Father is already furious, and Tatiana refuses to look at me. I do not need you doubting me too."

"I'm starting to believe you side with Will. You would like to see our family disgraced. Do you even care about us?"

Gabriel almost regretted his words, seeing Gideon flinch with pure hurt filling his eyes, but he would not back down. If Gideon saw wrong in his own family, Gabriel would not have it. There was silence for a moment.

"I love you, little brother; do not ever doubt that. Go see to Tati." Gideon closed the door, having the final say. It did not matter if the confrontation was short-lived and abruptly resolved, which was rare when Gabriel was involved. He was too exhausted to argue back. Being angry at everyone (innocent and guilty, it did not matter) was draining, even for him.

The noise from Tatiana's room was still going. If their father heard it, Tatiana would earn another lecture and would get no sleep, though she desperately needed it. As much as he sometimes wished she would change, Tatiana was still his sister, still family. Gabriel tried not to slam his door when he closed it and made his way to give his sister the comfort she requested.

**A/N: As high and powerful as they perceive themselves, the Lightwood siblings aren't above snuggling with each other to protect and comfort each other from their father. Prickly as he is, Gabriel would be an excellent snuggle buddy because he'd kill anyone who tried disturbing his rest. I love reading everyone's reviews, so feel free to drop me one!**


	5. Muse

**A Carstairs brother fic - aww yeah! Lovely Effie requested this one; I hope you like this one too. Don't feel bad about requesting fics; I could use the extra boost in inspiration! :D**

******Pre-TID. No spoilers. Fluffy bonding time between brothers. **

**Unlike his younger brother, Elias Carstairs is not a romantic, but he'll support Jonah's antics...to an extent.**

**Disclaimer: Cassandra Clare owns TID. **

The music from down the hall was distracting. Elias Carstairs was a desk in the library, rereading the Codex's section about methods to protect against werewolf scratches. For the past few nights, he and his brother, Jonah, had been sent out to drive the fanged Downworlders away from remote country villages, the pack's favorite places to hunt for straggling children and animals. Elias grimaced. Two nights ago, he had half-carried, half-dragged a limping Jonah back to the Institute. Their mission had ended early after Jonah suffered from nasty gashes on his side from more than one werewolf. He was ordered by the Silent Brothers to stay in bed for the next couple of days, which was the last thing Jonah wanted to hear. Between the two Carstairs brothers, he was the one with the most stamina, always on his feet doing something – training, horse-riding, dancing, violin-playing.

Violin-playing. That was the music from down the hall. Jonah was disobeying orders again, playing his violin when he should be in bed resting. Elias grit his teeth as he slammed the Codex closed and made his way to his brother's room. Not bothering to knock, Elias let himself into his brother's bedroom. Sitting on his bed and facing the window, Jonah had his eyes closed as he played. A thin layer of sweat shone on his forehead. The room was lit by a solitary candle on the bedside table, as Jonah preferred its soft glow over witchlight.

"By the Angel, Jonah, what do you think you are doing?" Elias demanded.

Hearing his brother's sharp tone, Jonah smiled knowingly; his eyes remained closed. The music continued.

"I know exactly what I'm doing," Jonah replied lightly, not at all perturbed by his elder brother's snarling tone. Elias did not smile back as he glared, crossing his arms across his chest.

"You know you should be in bed. The wounds will reopen if you move too much."

"I couldn't sleep. Or read. The book you left me was very dull."

"You shouldn't have had any trouble sleeping then."

"I would like to be comforted before I rest, not mentally tortured, Elias. Besides, my violin is comforting me."

Elias fought back the urge to roll his eyes. The way his brother talked about his precious instrument sounded like him talking about a young child or worse, a woman he was in love with, which was annoying. Dare he say it was...sentimental. He could not deny his brother's musical talent, and he sometimes wondered if Jonah would give up his Shadowhunter life for his music. It was lucky he was gifted in both fields enough to balance them.

The piece ended with one drawn out note, like a whisper. Jonah finally opened his eyes and grinned as his brother.

"How was it?"

"The usual. It was fine."

"Only fine? Not music of the gods?"

"_Jonah_." Elias said, exasperated.

This type of banter was normal for the Carstairs brothers. Jonah liked to corner his brother into giving compliments and saying positive things. He didn't do it for attention, however. It was a part of the unspoken brotherly agreement they had created, ever since they began training as Shadowhunters. Jonah had to find opportunities to let his brother become more optimistic, and Elias had to provide discipline when Jonah wanted to disobey orders. Despite his appearance of reluctance for completing his end of their deal, Elias was happy to let his brother hear the same compliments every time he asked. He refused to admit it to anyone, but he had a soft spot for his little brother. Watching him grow up was a real joy, knowing all they had was each other in the world, only each other to lean on.

"Do you think she would like it?" Jonah wondered aloud.

Elias' eyebrows rose. "Who are you talking about?"

"By the Angel, don't look so alarmed; I'm not eloping, brother." Elias had to force his brows not to furrow, and Jonah continued his train of thought.

"I always thought I would charm my future wife with music. Do you think it would work?"

Elias hesitated before answering. Their conversation had become one of those types: the kind when Jonah wanted his trusted brother's insight.

Jonah was clearly a romantic, lost in his idea of marrying and starting a family. On the opposite side, Elias avoided talk and thoughts of marriage; he had no interest in it. As a boy, he vowed to dedicate his entire life as a Shadowhunter, which meant there was no time to court and then marry a woman. He wouldn't know how to earn her love, anyways, not with his gruffness and indifference to romantic things, like art and music.

If there was one reason that stood out among the countless excuses to not marry, Elias stuck by this one: Shadowhunter families lost members as often as they gained them. Their own family was no exception; the two of them were the last two Carstairs. Losing their parents had been the eye-opener to the cruel world. Elias had considered lying to his brother, to say that marriage would destroy his life and break his heart, but Jonah was looking at him with expectant eyes, and Elias hated lying above everything else in the world.

"I am not a woman." Elias began. Jonah chuckled with a twinkle in his eyes, but Elias ignored him, continuing his honest opinion. "However, considering the many nights I have not slept due to your midnight practicing and your natural gift, whoever this woman you are trying to court is, yes. She would be delighted."

Jonah grinned, clearly pleased with his older brother's answer. Elias was compelled to smile back with slightly less enthusiasm as he was prone to, but it was a warm smile nonetheless. His younger brother's lit up face was contagious, even for someone as grouchy as he.

But the brotherly bonding time had to end. Jonah needed to heal properly before he caught his death, grinning like a lovesick fool. Elias' role of responsible older brother fell back into place naturally.

"I've given you what you wanted, Jonah. Now go to sleep."

Knowing he could not argue further, Jonah quietly put his violin away and climbed into his bed. Before he fell asleep, the younger Carstairs could not resist making one final request.

"Take your book with you, Elias. I want to have pleasant dreams tonight."

Sighing, Elias grabbed his book off the bedside table before making his way back to his place in the library. Jonah was a hopeless romantic, and the image fit him perfectly.

**A/N: I guess Jem got some his cheekiness from his father? It could have happened! By the way, did anyone catch the references to "For His Future"? Reviews of all shapes and sizes are loved, as much as Jonah Carstairs treasures his violin! :)**

**One last thing: ****Why aren't there character tags for Elias or Jonah Carstairs?! WHY? **


	6. Gratitude

**We're branching out a bit for this one. It's a Charlotte/her children fic! :D Depthsofthemind, I hope you like this one!**

**Post-CP2. Major spoilers if you haven't finished CP2. Warning: super fluffy. **

**After she gave birth to her first child, people congratulated Charlotte on starting a family of her own, but that wasn't entirely true. She was already a mother of six. **

Charlotte had been leaving a Clave meeting with Will by her side when she felt abnormally sharp pains in her abdomen. His face furrowed in concern, Will had steadied her when she nearly stumbled from the shock of the sensation and the realization that her baby was ready to the come into the world. For the delivery, she was put in a private room with a Silent Brother, but more importantly, the cherished women in her life: Tessa, Sophie, and Cecily. She wished that Jessamine could have been present, but based on Will's recounts of his visits with her, she refused to enter the birthing room. Childbirth, Jessie said, was a messy business and one a refined lady like herself would refrain from seeing. She would, however, be delighted to meet the baby boy after he was born and behaving like a little gentleman.

The three women fussed over her as if she were a small child, incapable of taking care of herself. As reluctant as she wanted to admit it, it was partly true. Her body seemed to be paralyzed with anxiety every time a contraction went through her, which made small things, like putting on the nightgown she was now wearing take twice as long without extra help. She also enjoyed their company. The wait seemed less nerve-wracking with them around. Cecily braided Charlotte's long brown hair to keep it out of the way, chatting while moving her swift fingers to keep Charlotte's mind off the pain in her belly. Tessa fluffed her pillows, exchanging the flatter ones with the plumpest ones she could find. When a new pillow was replaced, Tessa smoothed Charlotte's hair in the same manner the older woman had when Tessa first arrived at the London Institute. Sitting by her bed, Sophie squeezed Charlotte's hand when Charlotte realized gripping the bed sheets proved ineffective in relieving the pain.

She was truly blessed to have them in her life. For years, she had to balance between her duties of running the Institute and raising the Institute's wards. There had been many nights when she could not sleep, worrying over her behavior towards them. Was she too strict? Too lenient? Not kind enough? She felt guilty, as very often there was no time to properly teach them, spare an affectionate gesture or two, like a mother should. She feared that she was neglecting them, pushing them aside for her role as head of the Institute. Now that she was Consul, her life was busier than before, but after the battle against Mortmain and all she had lost, she made time for them and Henry. If her wards had any doubts of her love for them, she wanted to tell them the truth. She loved them as her own children. There was nothing in the world she would not do for them.

Despite her fears, Tessa, Cecily, Sophie (including Will and Jem for that matter) had grown up to be strong and compassionate. That was all she could ask for. The fact that they repaid her kindness willingly was an unexpected blessing. The girls wanted (insisted in Cecily's case) to be present at her baby's birth. Will was keeping an undoubtedly worried Henry company, although the boy was probably just as anxious. Jem had relayed a message to her, sending his regards from the Silent City. Knowing all this moved Charlotte as much as her realization that Henry loved her back.

Thoughts of her family kept Charlotte strong as her baby was brought into the world. After hours of labor and waiting, Charlotte was handed a bundle of swathing blankets. At last, she was holding her baby boy. His eyes were still closed, but Charlotte imagined them to be a warm hazel like Henry's, a much softer look compared to her own dark brown eyes. There was a shock of wispy red hair on his pink head, and Charlotte caressed it. She smiled; it was as soft as Henry's own locks and the same color. Sophie had offered to let Henry and Will know of the successful birth, but Charlotte requested that she stay a bit longer. This moment would not be missed. Charlotte beckoned for the women to gather around her.

"Oh, my girls, he's beautiful. Thank you, thank you for being here. I cannot say it enough. Thank you..." Charlotte could not continue, her tears rolling down her face.

All at once, there was crying and hugs exchanged and light kisses dropped on foreheads. Charlotte was the happiest she had ever been, surrounded by her girls and holding her son her arms. All she needed now was Henry and her boys, but as excited as she was to show them her first child, they could wait a few more minutes. This moment, Charlotte hoped would eliminate any lingering doubts that she cared for her girls. Their smiling faces tracked with happy tears said it, the unspoken truth: we love you.

**A/N: Charles Buford Fairchild, everyone! :D Is it okay to assume he passed Henry's red hair down to the next several generations if you know what I mean (cough no spoilers for TMI cough)? But now there's the mystery of who Matthew Fairchild's parents are. Do Charlotte and Henry have two sons? Does Charlotte have cousins/siblings we don't know about and Matthew is their child? Heck, was he adopted after something happened to his birth parents? I love reading everyone's feedback, so please feel free to leave one. **


	7. Vigilant

**Two updates in one day - I'm getting on board this train, it's leaving the station, and I'm loving this ride! ****It's another Lightwood family fic, and this time, it's mostly about Gabriel and his children! :D**

**Post-CP2. Spoilers for the epilogue and the CP2 family tree. Fluffy.**

**Gabriel appreciates how protective his daughter is of her little brother - like a true Lightwood, that's how.**

**Disclaimer: Cassandra Clare owns TID.**

Gabriel was in his study when Cecily burst through the door, visibly upset. Her hair was loose from her usual braid, and her eyes were dark. Immediately, Gabriel embraced her, fearing something had gone tragically wrong.

"Cecy, what's happened?"

She sighed, running her fingers through her hair. "It's Christopher. Gideon caught him fighting a few of the neighborhood boys."

That did not sound as awful as Cecy was making it. He and Gideon would get into fistfights occasionally. It was a normal part of every boy's childhood.

"It was a fight he started. One of the boys ended up with a broken nose and arm. Gideon tried to get Christopher to apologize, but he refused. He has shut himself in his room after Gideon drove him back."

"He's locked his door, hasn't he?"

Cecily nodded. "Anna cannot get him to come out."

Gabriel's brow furrowed. His son adored his older sister, sometimes refusing to obey his and Cecily's requests in favor of Anna's. It was endearing to know they were so close, but it was often inconvenient. Anna liked to skip lessons to play in the gardens or read, and Christopher followed suit. What Anna did best was calm her brother's anger, and her parents were eternally thankful for that. She had inherited a calm disposition from either of her grandmothers, as he and Cecily were still known for their hotheadedness. More than once, Anna had saved her parents from losing their tempers trying to talk Christopher out of his bad behaviors as he glared at them with his dark blue eyes. If she could not get through to him, it was a serious issue. Gabriel would have to intervene as the trump card. Gabriel gave Cecily's shoulder a tight squeeze before heading upstairs to his children's bedrooms.

Anna was seated in front of Christopher's door; her knees were drawn up to her chest with her head buried in her arms. Gabriel knelt by his daughter, careful not to startle her.

"Anna," Gabriel whispered.

She looked up, her green eyes filled with hurt. Seeing her father so close, she immediately wiped her eyes roughly with her sleeve and sat up straighter. Gabriel was surprised at how quickly she could compose herself. It was a skill that took years to master, yet she was still a child and could do it effortlessly.

"Father, Chris won't listen to me. I'm sorry; I've tried everything - threats, comfort, sympathy - and he still won't..." She sounded so wounded, like she had failed in her sole duty: to make her brother come out of his isolation and speak with his family. She was still young, but still tried to shoulder as much responsibility as her parents allowed. Gabriel was very proud of her efforts of taking care of her brother. She was a true Lightwood – fiercely loyal and protective of her family.

"Go find your mother in my study. I'll deal with Christopher."

Anna hesitated. "Can I not stay with you?"

"Not this time, Anna. You've done everything you can." She still did not seem convinced.

"I want talk to him. Will you tell me when he comes out?" Anna said hopefully.

Gabriel nodded. "Even before your mother knows, I promise."

At that, Anna wrapped her arms around her father's waist, hugging him tightly. Gabriel smoothed her hair back. He had assumed Anna had already out grown being physically affectionate with him and Cecily, so her embracing him was a real surprise. But Anna must have surprised herself, as she quickly pulled away, looking pleased yet embarrassed. She flashed Gabriel a quick smile before running downstairs to find Cecily. He smiled at her retreating figure before turning toward his son's bedroom door.

**A/N: I still can't believe Gabriel becomes a father. Just...wow. WOW. I would love to receive feedback, as much as Anna is concerned about Christopher. Leave a review, if you'd like! **


	8. Remembrance

**Hey there. I've been wanting to express how I felt when I saw a certain section of the CP2 family tree. T-T So. Touching. Lightwood. Boy. You. Gah!**

**Post-CP2. Major spoilers for the ending/epilogue and the family tree! Fluffy and slightly angsty. **

**Sophie reflects on her children's names, particularly her third child's, her only boy.**

Five months into her pregnancy, Sophie was coming up with names for her third child. Gideon had been ecstatic when they found out it was a boy. He had wanted a son since they got married, although he wouldn't trade his two girls, Barbara and Eugenia, for the world. Sometimes, Sophie thought he loved his daughters more than he loved her. When she mentioned it to Gideon, his slightly horrified and sheepish expression made her giggle, though she did her best to hide it. There was that small tingle of guilt on her part when he tried to understand how she came to this revelation. Of course there was no competition for his love between Sophie and her children; she just liked to tease her husband occasionally. Her marriage to him had brought out a playful side she never knew she possessed. Spending time with Tessa and Cecily certainly had an influence on that as well.

Names were important in the Shadowhunter world, even more so than in the mundane one. The pride of carrying on one's family name and the connected legacy was enormous. A Shadowhunter could hate another just because of their name. Will and Gabriel were prime examples of that, but after years of stifled conversations with the help of Tessa and Cecily's loving and sometimes violent intervention, the two were on friendlier terms. Not quite friends, but pleasant enough not to ruin Christmas parties.

The Lightwood name was still a burden to carry. Benedict's reputation had done much damage. Even after Mortmain was defeated and the Lightwood brothers had proved their loyalties were to the Clave, some Shadowhunters refused to respect them and anyone under the disgraced name. Gideon and Sophie hoped that their children would help relieve and remove any hostilities people still had against their family when they were old enough. The names they had chosen for their children reflected that hope.

Their eldest daughter was named after Gideon and Gabriel's mother. Gideon did not remember much of her, since he was only five years old when she died. One of the things that did stand out to him, through the blurred bits of his memories of her, was her warm smile. It wrapped around and filled him with so much joy that Gideon need only remember it and the pain of hearing his father cursing at the world would subside.

Eugenia's name was special to Sophie. It brought her back to times before Tessa arrived at the London Institute, even before she started loving Jem. On one of their many nights spent in the kitchen, Agatha had shared with her that she always wanted to have a daughter named Eugenia. Marriage at Agatha's age was almost impossible, Agatha laughed hollowly, but her desire for a little girl never died, like it was tucked away in a forgotten trunk in plain sight underneath her bed. That night, Sophie felt touched that Agatha trusted her enough to tell her most treasured secrets. When Agatha died, Sophie promised herself that if she married, however impossible that seemed given her scar, she would fulfill the older woman's wish. It was the least she could do; Agatha had died defending the Institute and her.

For their third child's name, even though they had agreed to take turns naming their children, Gideon let Sophie choose. Naming one of their daughters after his mother was more than he could ever ask for was his reason why. Sophie understood the real motive. Gideon was considering to name their child after his father, Benedict, but he was wise enough not to, and Sophie was grateful. He had the best intentions, but Sophie and he could see the disastrous results of choosing that name. Gideon was an idealist in thinking that showing the world a better Benedict Lightwood would be of any use. It would have the opposite effect. Their son would be haunted being named after his infamous grandfather. No, it was best to not use that name. Gabriel had agreed wholeheartedly too when Sophie and Gideon had pulled him aside to tell him of their decision: No Lightwood would be named Benedict ever again. Sophie had included the name Theodore to be forbidden as well after her previous "Master Teddy" with no objections from the Lightwood brothers.

With those names out of the way forever, Sophie had the freedom of naming her son whatever she liked, but it was proving difficult. None of the names she initially came up with seemed right, although they were strong names: Robert, Maxwell, Andrew, Joseph. The suggestions Tessa and Cecily had provided would not do either, though she was grateful for their assistance. It wasn't until Cyril, still employed at the London Institute, had dropped by earlier that morning to deliver a message from the Institute that she realized the perfect name. Cyril's smile and friendly tip of his hat had sparked the revelation; his late brother wore the same expression when he did the same gesture. Of course.

Thomas. Her son would be Thomas Lightwood, after the brave man who died protecting the Institute from Mortmain's clockwork soldiers. She admired his courage, but only recently discovered why he stood his ground even if doing so killed him. Thomas had loved her. At the time, she did not return his feelings, since she was in love with Jem, but there was another reason. It was one she had not come to terms with until she was married: she had been in denial that anyone could love her and her scarred face and had inadvertently pushed Thomas away. The night of her realization, she had cried and cried as Gideon hugged her and listened with sympathy as she poured out how awful she felt for denying Thomas due to her insecurities, especially since he died protecting her. Gideon had comforted her, telling her that Thomas did not die for nothing, as he did what any man would for the woman he loved. She was alive and happy, and if Thomas was a good man, which he was, he would be happy for her.

Sophie had to let Thomas know of her feelings, and she had spent that entire afternoon writing a letter to him: ten pages of how she truly felt. Now that she was finished, Sophie put her pen down and stretched. Her fingers were stained with ink, and loose paper was scattered across the desk. She had been sitting in the chair by her desk for hours, and her neck was beginning to feel sore, but she was content with her work. She folded the letter and sealed it with wax before slowly making her way to the fireplace. Her ankles were swollen, as they always did when she was pregnant, but that would not stop her from completing her deed. She kissed the letter lightly before throwing it into the fire. She hoped Thomas would receive it and accept and the feelings enclosed in them.

**A/N: Sophie Lightwood, you named your only son THOMAS. We know of only one other Thomas in TID world! My poor heart can't handle this odd heartbreaking yet heartwarming feeling! I love reviews, as much as Sophie loves her children, so please feel free to leave one. **


	9. Tradition

**Even though it's only August...I have a Christmas fic for everyone. Because why not?**

**Post- CP2. Major spoilers for the CP2 family tree. Cousin/sibling fic. **

**Disclaimer: Cassandra Clare owns TID and the abundance of Shawdowhunter children. **

_London, 1897_

This year's Christmas party was the first time Eugenia Lightwood had worn a corset, and Barbara was very proud of her little sister. She and her mother had convinced a reluctant Eugenia that wearing a corset was the next step into womanhood. Eugenia only accepted once it was agreed that she could choose the dress' neckline. Close to one in the morning, Eugenia sighed in relief as the dreaded corset was pried off her skin. She was fifteen, old enough to join the adults downstairs for the remainder of the night, but when Barbara headed upstairs for the night, she followed. Holiday parties were boring if she could not talk and be with her sister whom she adored. She took a deep breath, as if she had been drowning and finally had the chance to breathe pure oxygen. Her loud exhale prompted a raised eyebrow from her sister was helping her out of the dress; their maid had the night off.

"Was it really that horrible?" Barbara asked.

Eugenia whirled around to meet her sister's gaze as she stepped into her loose and comfortable nightgown. Her brown eyes were wide with disbelief.

"I like being able to move without fainting, thank you. They are not worth the trouble."

Barbara smiled, the way their mother did when sharing advice. As the oldest among many cousins and siblings, she had adopted a motherly nature.

"You looked beautiful tonight. Mother was right – rose suits you best," Barbara said as she put away her sister's gown.

Eugenia felt a flush in her cheeks and fumbled with the laces on her nightgown, avoiding her sister's eyes. She never reacted well to compliments, especially ones coming from her family.

There was a loud patter of footsteps outside the girls' bedroom door, followed by a hurried rush of whispers and knocks.

"Gina, Bara! Let us in!"

It was Thomas, their younger brother. He was not alone; there were shadows of many little feet from behind the door.

The Lightwood sisters shared a glance, grinning at each other. The younger children had been sent up to bed hours ago. It was too late to try calming all of them down and sending back to bed at the same time. Each child had different habits for falling asleep, and the girls' words were taken lightly when it came to bedtime. If the little ones weren't asleep soon, their rowdiness would surely alert the adults, and their midnight fun would be spoiled. They would have to spend the night in the girls' room.

"Pretend to scold them," Eugenia whispered, to which Barbara nodded. Nothing would be more somber than a cousin acting like an adult, one of the children's worst nightmares. A cousin was not supposed to side with the adults!

Eugenia quickly opened the door, ushering the group inside. Before closing it, she checked the hallway for any adults and breathed a sigh of relief – none were seen. The plan could go on ahead. It was now up to Barbara's superb acting skills.

Barbara stood up tall in front of the two large four poster beds. She put her hands on her hips, staring down at the wide-eyed, chattering children: Anna, Thomas, James, Christopher and little Lucie.

"You are a naughty lot, awake at this ungodly hour. And you even have the nerve to barge into a young lady's room without asking for permission first. Whose idea was it to stay up this late?" Barbara said sharply. Her green eyes were hard, and the talking stopped almost immediately.

No one moved for a moment. A wave of horror washed over the children. Like a row candles blown out individually, one by one their faces were no longer lit by smiles. Barbara could only imagine what they were thinking: Would she finally tell their parents they were still awake? Would she turn them in, like they were naughty, which they technically were? Fearless Lucie clung to Anna's nightgown, hiding her face behind the white fabric. The boys' eyes were darting everywhere, except in the direction of Barbara. She looked like their mothers giving them a lecture, but this was far worse. Their beloved Bara was staring them down.

"Anna?" Barbara turned toward her eldest girl cousin.

The thirteen year old looked up and shook her head. Her arm tightened around Lucie's shoulders.

"I was asleep before somebody yelled loud enough to wake Lucie up. She started crying, and the boys refused to comfort her." When she emphasized the word somebody, Anna's glare landed on her brother. His returned glare was as hot as hers was glacial, and he stuck his tongue out at her. Too mature for such childish behavior, Anna turned to meet Barbara's eyes again. Anna and Christopher were very close, but when they argued, the whole house could hear them. Explosive arguments were a Lightwood trademark. When Lucie was involved, their shouting matches shook the walls. Anna was very protective of her baby cousin, even more so than she was toward her own brother when he was Lucie's age.

Lucie followed Anna's lead and glared at Christopher. Her intense expression contrasted greatly with her childish, round features.

"I was dreaming about my aunt Ella," Lucie said with a sad pout.

Barbara opened her mouth, aghast. "Christopher, how could you disturb Lucie's dream? You know how much Lucie admires her aunt." Ella Herondale's bravery and devotion was a story that even Barbara knew, although she was not a Herondale. Her parents spoke fondly of Ella, especially when her Uncle Will and Aunt Cecily were in the room.

Christopher fidgeted. Barbara never called him his full first name.

"It wasn't my fault! James was snoring so loudly I had to punch him to shut him up. It worked."

"That's because I woke up, Chris," James replied coolly.

"And then he punched Chris back, hard too. I woke up when his foot landed on my face. Smelled like rotting fish." Thomas chimed in, wrinkling his nose as if remembering the stench.

Christopher scowled; his bare toes curled on the rug. "My feet do not smell! And you're supposed to be on my side. You're my cousin!"

"Jamie is also our cousin, remember? He's your mother's nephew."

"I know that, you twit. But you're a Lightwood, like me!"

"Doesn't matter what our last names are. We're still family, Lightwood or otherwise." Barbara fought a smile, but her heart warmed. Her little brother was very skilled in making their cousin see reason, a trait passed down from their father.

"Good God, you're as awful as James!" The fire in Christopher's blue eyes began to grow, a sign of his temper flaring.

Barbara cleared her throat, but it trailed into a suppressed chuckle. This was too much; they actually believed she was angry at them. She could not hold her façade up any longer and broke into a smile. By the door, Eugenia was already shaking with giggling, leaning one arm against the door for support. The children wore puzzled expressions, unsure of their cousins' reactions.

"I merely jest. Of course, you may sleep in here tonight," Barbara said.

The rejoicing cry that erupted was sure to bring all of their parents storming up the stairs to see what their children were up to, but Eugenia and Barbara did not scold them for it. Seeing their cousins' faces light back up was too precious a moment to ruin. The stampede for the two beds would have rivaled getting in line for the first round of Christmas desserts. Arms flailed, not-so-accidental punches were thrown, and mild hair pulling ensued, but eventually the children had nestled comfortably. Eugenia shared her bed with Anna, Lucie, and James, while Thomas and Christopher slept in Barbara's.

"I knew you wouldn't be angry with us," Thomas whispered to his sister when the candles were blown out.

"Which is why you brought them here," Barbara said, knowingly. She understood Thomas the best, next to their mother.

"You don't mind, right, Bara? This tradition, I mean."

"I will mind if Chris keeps kicking my shins. Our cousin doesn't stop moving, even in his sleep." Barbara reached over and stroked Chris' hair, in hopes of calming him and his overactive limbs. In reaction to her touch, he snorted and turned over. A swing of his arm knocked his pillow to the floor.

"We'll be lucky if he doesn't force us off the bed," Thomas said, scooting closer to the edge of the bed.

"If that happens, we'll just have to get back at him. And I have a few things planned," Barbara grinned. "Good night, Thomas."

"'Night, Bara," Thomas yawned and promptly fell asleep, joining his sisters and cousin in dreamland.

**A/N: Cassandra Clare, thank for you giving us a family tree so that the fandom may write fics of ALL. THE. HERONDALE/LIGHTWOOD. CHILDREN. I'm really looking forward to TLH. **

**As for everyone's ages - Barbara (17), Eugenia (15), Anna (13), Thomas (12), James (11), Christopher (10), Lucie (6). **


	10. Babbling

Jonah Carstairs walked into the library to meet with his family. His wife, Wen Yu, had recently discovered a new restaurant and wanted to take her husband and son there for lunch that day. The family was to rendezvous in the library first. The melodic sounds of his wife speaking Mandarin guided him to his family's favorite spot in the Shanghai Institute: the chairs by the library window. There, Jonah found Wen Yu holding their three year old son, James, on her lap. The toddler was speaking in Mandarin and English, but all the Mandarin Jonah could pick up was "Mama", "Shanghai", and "_chi fan_*". Wen Yu must have been telling their son about their plans for lunch or something. As Jonah approached the pair, James flashed Jonah a toothy smile.

"James, what've you been doing all morning with your mother?" Jonah knelt next to his wife to see eye-to-eye with his son after placing a quick kiss on his wife's cheek. It was his way of saying hello to her in private.

Instead of speaking, James merely laughed, squirming in his mother's arms with his arms outstretched. He wanted to be picked up, and Jonah willingly obliged. James was gaining weight as of late, his cheeks chubby and pink. People had praised them heavily for raising such a healthy child.

"I've been teaching him the differences between English and Mandarin. He's learned so much of both languages since he started speaking, but..." Wen Yu said, as she stood up from the chair. Jonah noticed the slight worry in his wife's voice.

"What's wrong?"

"Well...just listen." Wen Yu faced James and asked, "_Ke Jian Ming zai na li_?" Where is Ke Jian Ming: Jonah translated in his head.

"_Ke Jian Ming zai_ here!" Ke Jian Ming is.._._oh.

"He's added one word of English to his Mandarin. That's not too bad; I do it all the time."

"You add far more than just one English word." Wen Yu replied, giving her husband a look, and Jonah smiled sheepishly. On a good day, his sentences were ninety percent English and ten percent Mandarin. His wife knew how hard he did his best learning Mandarin.

"That's not the worst of it, though. Jian, what is your English name?"

James didn't think twice before replying, like he had rehearsed beforehand. "_Ke_ James Car-_ming_!" He was beaming.

Jonah's eyebrows shot up. By the Angel, he hadn't expected that drastic of a language combination. Although he had to admit, the pride on his son's face for answering his mother's question so quickly and confidently was very cute.

"I see your concern, dear," Jonah said calmly. Bursting out laughing at how adorable his son looked would do nothing to relieve Wen Yu's worries.

"What are we going to do?" Wen Yu rubbed slow circles on her son's back. "I don't want to only speak one language to him, but we can't leave him jumbling both languages like that."

Jonah curled his arm lightly around his wife's waist. "Our James is a smart boy, Wen Yu. I'm sure he'll figure it out soon. Won't you, James?" Jonah ruffled his son's dark hair to which James shrieked loudly with laughter.

"Jiam! Jiam!" he exclaimed.

Jonah exchanged glances with Wen Yu. It sounded like a name. A new friend of their son's?

"Who is Jiam?" Wen Yu asked.

"I am Jiam! _Wo jiao Jiam_!**" Jonah finally understood; his son was saying "Jem", albeit a little adorably inaccurate in his pronounciation. It was a pet name for James. Jonah hated pet names for the longest time. His peers had taken a liking to call him "Nana" to his face, their snide shortening of "Jonah". But that was in the past, and he would have nothing against his son taking a nick name. It seemed to fit; Jem Carstairs had a nice ring to it. He was curious to know how their son learned of a shortening of his own name, since he and his wife had never called him anything but James, Jem, and the occasional _bao bei_ and son. Maybe they did not give enough credit to their ever curious three year old.

"Alright, son. We can call you Jem if you want." Jonah looked to his wife and she nodded. "To lunch then, Mr. Jem, Mrs. Carstairs."

Jonah offered his arm to his wife and she took it. The family of three headed out of the Institute and into the crowded streets of Shanghai. All the way to the restaurant, James, now Jem's, voice led them: "Jiam wants to eat! _Jiam yao chi fan_!"

**A/N: Quick question. To anyone who knows of Shanghai's cuisine, what do you think the Carstairs would be eating? **

**Translations:**  
*** eat a meal**  
**** I am called [name].**


End file.
